Let's Be Allies
by GakupoFangirl
Summary: England is hunting for an ally, and the first one he tries is Germany. Unfortunately, he won't be going any further than that... GerXEng, future LEMON.
1. Worthless Attempts

**All right, everyone. Finally, after more than a year: Chapter 4. I'm going to take this whole story and revamp it, because the whole thing is terrible. I didn't even do any bloody research, and I'm sure Arthur seemed too OOC. But there will be a reason behind that, so... enjoy?**

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><p>There was the sweet breath of sunshine upon his cheek. He breathed in slightly, inhaling the fresh scent of dew and grass, and smiled slightly, waiting to be shaken awake by the boy that he knew and loved, the one who always ran to him with a large grin on his face, shouting: "England, England! Look at the battlefield I set up with your soldiers! They're going to have an epic, heroic battle again the French soldiers!"<p>

And the little boy, not taller than Arthur's knee, would tug at his hand and show him the mini battlefield he had set up on the kitchen table. "And England will always win! Because Arthur's my hero!"

_Ah, that seemed so long ago… But he will wake me up today, and everything will be fine. He will smile at me, laugh, and promise me that he is my little boy, and that I am his brother. He loves me. He'll be with me… always…_

Emerald green eyes opened to stare up at the white, pure ceiling.

And then Arthur realized that America was no longer with him.

Yes. America had left long ago, hadn't he? He had left to go to his own land… a "new world" far across the sea, where he would eventually grow to be the young man that he was now… and then he would rebel.

The sea of blood that mingled with the fresh earth of the new country called "America" had been mixed with his own tears.

"_Goodbye, England. I'm sorry._" He could hear the boy's voice as if the Revolution had been yesterday—no, not even yesterday. As if it was now, here, in his room. "_I'm sorry… But I won't stay with you forever. I won't let you control me anymore… I want my own way. I want my independence._"

No. You bloody bastard. Why would you leave me? Why? Are you like… like...

"_I'm sorry, England._"

No. Damned boy. You're not sorry at all. Not even grateful. I… I… I loved you. And this is… This is how you repay me?

"_Goodbye_."

You're like everyone else… you'll always leave me. No matter how strong I am, how broken… I will always be alone.

The blossoms of sunlight lit upon his crimson-flushed cheeks as he sighed melancholically.

_Ah, yes. What a beautiful day it will be. Wake up, have a mug of tea, and enjoy the warmth of the morning. Nobody there beside me… it'll be peaceful. Peaceful… yes, and lonely as well. B-But that's alright._

_I don't _need_ anyone. Not even America. Especially not America._

Arthur twisted and turned in his bed, moving onto his side to grip his pillow—_Wait._

"… The bloody hell, this isn't my pillow!" Hell, it wasn't. His pillow was nice and fluffy, just the way Tinker Bell had done for him. It had the flag of the damned United Kingdom on it, not black and red and yellow stripes—!

Arthur felt a hand on his shoulder, and a deep, husky voice from behind him. He stiffened as Germany asked: "Arthur, are you o—?"

The Englishman's response was instantaneous. With a sweep of his hand, he had left a bright, red mark across Germany's face as he screamed: "_What the bloody hell am I doing on your bed, potato bastard?!_"

Ludwig wasn't quite sure what was going on, but Arthur's resemblance to Romano was unbearably strong.

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><p><strong>Yeah... so this is where it's going. I'm going to take all these chapters and redo them, since they're absolutely awful. So wish me luck!<strong>

**Oh, yeah, visit my new account at PrussiaXAustria1000 on Fanfiction and deviantART and my parter GermanyXItaly1000. You won't regret it!**


	2. Deep Longing

**I finally decided to update something, since I love this pairing now. Please review.**

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><p>Arthur moaned, squirming in the sheets of the bed he was lying in and suddenly moving his arm carelessly against the mattress. An instant blast of pain rocketed through his torso, causing him to gasp loudly, a sound that did not go unnoticed by the German sleeping in the armchair beside the bed that he normally would have been sleeping in. Ludwig moved slightly in his chair, sitting up and allowing his sharp eyes to adjust to the darkness.<p>

"England?" he muttered softly, and a small surge of sympathy struck him as he heard a soft sob coming from the direction of the Englishman. "England… what happened? Did you hurt yourself?"

Sighing quietly, the blonde stood stiffly and shuffled over to the drawers at the side of the bed, opening one of them to rifle through for something as Arthur cried, "M-my arm… it _hurts_…"

"England… you should've told someone about this…" Ludwig placed one knee on the bed and gently leaned over to sit the older man up. "Relax, okay?"

Arthur tried hard to comply as the German pressed down on his arm in various places, searching for where it hurt. When he gathered enough strength to open his eyes and glance down at Ludwig's motions, it was obvious, given how skillfully and confidently the other man's fingers moved about on his injured arm, that Ludwig had had past experience, and probably a degree in medicine.

"Y-yes… it hurts there… Germany, you n-never—ah!—told me you were a doctor," murmured the man as Ludwig opened his first aid kit and searched for something that would form a suitable cast.

"Arthur," said Germany, deciding to switch to his neighbor's human name, "if you had such a terrible medical history, you should've at least informed _me_. _I'm_ a doctor, I could've at least helped."

"T-the last thing I need is h-help from a blo-bloody wanker like _you_," retorted Arthur, managing to come up with a clever remark even as Ludwig was wrapping a bandage around his arm, deciding to go for a simple approach that would at least hold him together until he could be sent home. "I didn't need a-anyone's help…"

Ludwig finished tying off the cloth and sat up to stare gravely at Arthur. "Arthur… this is serious," he replied, moving his leg off the bed and sitting down on the soft material. "If you were born like that, I understand that you had no say in it, but you can't go so long, taking all this pressure and not telling anyone. That is inexcusable. Now," ordered the icy blue-eyed man, crossing his arms and fixing England with a glare, "…I want you to tell me all about this condition. Seriously, I need to hear about it _all_."

Arthur stared dully at Ludwig with a hint of rebellion in his green eyes. "As if I would take all the time to involve you in such a matter that you shouldn't even have gotten yourself into in the first place."

"Arthur, I'm not joking. This is important, and you know it. If you go on like this, you know that eventually you'll die, don't you?" Ludwig exhaled slowly, thinking carefully, and then continued, "It's for your own good."

Arthur gazed somberly at the German, for a moment feeling reticent to tell the latter anything, but suddenly it occurred to him—all those years, those endless decades of sufferring, really had been too much, at times, to bear. He couldn't fight against it, and it could not be cured. Ever since he was a child, he had been weak, incredibly frail, able to break with the slightest bit of pressure. It had been hundreds of years since he had given up hope, but what chance was there that that small fire, that faint gleam of faith in finding, someday, a treatment that could save him from what he percieved to be his fate, could be sparked up again?

And at that moment an overwhelming wave of guilt overcame him, that feeling of nausea in his stomach that had often befallen him in the past. "… I… I _can't_ tell you… I just can't… it's so shameful…"

Ludwig looked intently at Arthur, pity for the man came to him once more. "… Arthur, you can tell _me_, I wouldn't tell anyone. I promise… something like this is too big to hide forever, and you know it."

Arthur took a deep breath, desperately trying to control himself in front of Germany. "I… I was l-like this… my whole life. I-I co-couldn't help it, I… oh God!" The nation broke into a sudden stream of tears, and Ludwig found himself impulsively putting an arm around the Englishman to comfort him, like he had grown accustomed to doing for Italy. But somehow this felt different.

Italy was capable of protecting himself, if he could ever muster the courage. He had a decently strong body (don't ask how Germany knows this!) and did not break easily, although he was weak. Feliciano was a durable country that did not simply fall—it took much more than that. But England… England was different. He knew how to defend himself, it was just that _he_ didn't have the physical strength that even Feliciano possessed.

"…" Ludwig gazed at Arthur, who was now sobbing miserably, his head against the larger man's chest as the thick-browed state speculated the situation he was in. "That's a good start, Arthur. Just take it easy…"

"… L-Ludwig…" Arthur continued to weep, "D-do you… do you th-think there can… ever be a cure for this? F-for what I have?" At this point he broke down completely, gasping and bawling as one would expect a child to, as Ludwig shook his shoulders as gently as possible, trying to recapture his attention.

"Now, Arthur, I can't tell you if I can help you or not if you don't tell me what's wrong with you! You have to focus! No, don't stress yourself about it, take some time to calm down first…"

Arthur stared up at Ludwig blankly, his tear-rimmed eyes red and puffy. "I-It's been this way as long as I can remember… this condition… ever since I was born. For my whole life I've had it."

Now he had managed to sit up on his own, and he pulled the sheets up to his chin and leaned, exhausted, against the wall behind the bed. Ludwig nodded encouragingly. "You're doing fine. Keep going."

"I can remember… when I was young… all my brothers and cousins knew it already… that I was weak. They… they could see it whenever they saw me… I was always the one who s-stumbled, always the one that bruised the most easily. And even I knew it, that I w-was different." Arthur sniffled sullenly, then carried on, "Everyone was aware of the fact that there was something _wrong_ with me. I wasn't normal, I was always falling, always starting a fight and never winning. T-they could never see anything else. That was the only thing that all the other nations saw. That I was feeble, frail."

"And… and what was the cause for this?" Ludwig asked hesitantly, afraid to upset the latter.

"… I don't know… France—he always said that I was born that way. He was there, he was practically my brother. I was naturally abnormal; Francis, he claims that I nearly died when I was first created."

"… I-I see…" Ludwig inhaled sharply, not knowing how to explain to Arthur. "Is there… anything else?"

"N-no… All I know is that I've been like this as long as I can remember. It never got better, just…"

"Worse," guessed Ludwig, sighing quietly. He supposed that England could figure it out for himself now.

"Then… from the sound of that, I'm guessing there is no cure…?" He hardly dared to desire, he only allowed himself a small ray of hope that perhaps there would be _something_ to release him from his pain.

But he couldn't even permit himself to even hope.

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><p><strong>I was lazy, so this was short. Please REVIEW, I live off of reviews! *smiles sweetly*<strong>


	3. Friendless No More

**Hi guys, I figure I'm finally back for another round of GerUK cuz I felt like writing this thing some more. I promise that eventually I'll start catching up on some others, but for now, on with this pairing! Please review, that's always in my author's notes…**

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><p>England slowly sat up straight, his breath hitching in his lungs as he stared in hope at the German man, praying desperately.<p>

_Please let there_ _be a cure… oh please, God, it's all I want… haven't I suffered enough…?_ He was pleading with God now, praying, truly praying, for the first time in _years_.

He wasn't sure what had suddenly spurred him to that action, to suddenly speak to his Maker, but he knew one thing now. He was sure that he finally understood now, how much pain Jesus had gone through on the cross, and that it was much more that Arthur would ever feel, but nevertheless he was finally returning to his faith. He was at the end of his rope, he realized, and back then he had not known what it was like to be at his wit's end. Arthur had often been on the verge of tears in the past years, but now he knew that there was no escaping, and he had to at last accept the fact that he still needed God, and now he need him the most. He was turning back to his religion…

But he needed more than just God, as hard as it was for the Christian to admit. He needed a friend. He had always needed companions, people to work beside him, and although God might provide love for him, he needed the love not only of his Father, but also of a human—a country.

"Please… Ludwig… tell me that there is something… _something_… to save me… I can't _live_ like this anymore. You don't understand, you'd _never_ understand, what I have lived through. You had it easy!" Now Arthur's voice was rising, his chest heaving, and he was losing all self-control.

It, of course, was impossible to have what he had lived with without developing a temper. It was more than a temper though, it had developed into, and _was_ pure anger, sheer HATRED. It was a burning hate, a despite for the world, for what it had put him through, and anger at the very earth that had created him, the passion, efforts, and blood of his leaders that had been brought forward to create him. But no matter how much they had given and sacrificed to create the nation that was England, Arthur would always be weak. That was the way he had been always, from the day that he had been born, and it would be so until the day he was destroyed. It seemed to be his only fate, all that he would ever know.

"Arthur…" Ludwig gazed at him, feeling almost hopeless, burdened with the fact that when he told Arthur, _if_ he could force himself to, Arthur would lose hope. Not only his hopes, but everything he lived for, would be gone in a flash with a few simple words.

"Listen! You don't know what has happened to me… this disease… this _curse_… has plagued me for years, centuries, and you have no idea what it can do a person's mind! Even a nation cannot withstand so much pressure! I've been limited and kept back for as long as I remember, unable to do what others find so easy, all because of whatever gave me this weakness! Why do I always lose? Why do I fall even to a weak country like France? It's because of _this_! This illness, even my magic cannot fix it! Ludwig… please… I have nothing left anymore…"

"Arthur…" Ludwig suddenly found his throat dry. Arthur really did not know how similar they were… "I know that you will find this hard, but… t-there _is_ no… no cure. Arthur, please try to understand…"

But to Ludwig's surprise, the older one did not burst out in anger or fierceness as he had expected not only from Arthur but what he would've done in the man's place, but Arthur simply slumped against the headboard, sighing and shutting his eyes frantically, trying to calm himself.

Arthur's mind, also, had been affected by the past, of all the struggles and near-death encounters he'd faced. It had come close to becoming undone far too many times, and he would no longer risk it.

For, you see, it was not only the sickness and weakness that he was forced to battle against each day.

It was his _mind_ itself. Every day it seemed to grow deadlier, more _animal-like_ and less human, a result of the terrible life he had lived that was slowly driving him insane. It had been pushed too far, wasn't meant to take such trauma beyond the toils of war and paperwork, which would've been hard enough, but with his condition… it was all too much.

Arthur's mind was, in fact, on the verge of destroying him entirely. He fought in distress against it, but it never was to be normal once more, it had slipped already and could not be made completely human. He was losing control, he knew it, and he tried to hide it. But over time he could see that this would no longer work. It was also his refrain from prayer and God that led him to this, but his situation could no longer be fixed.

One day, someone, likely France, would find out about everything. And on that one day, he had some hunch that that would be the day that all he fought for would be lost. But… one thing kept him wondering if this was meant to be.

Germany knew now. Did this mean that there was hope? Hope for him, hope for a future cure?

"How do… how do y-you _know_ there isn't a-a cure…?" He spoke out in a hushed whisper, before realizing that there was no need, no _point_, to fight it all anymore. "L-Ludwig… I-I'm sorry…" Arthur inhaled as deeply as he could for a moment, and then breathed it all out. He had not meant to impose his words on the German, did not want to make the man a subject of his anger, but he had just shown how capable his anger was of taking over him.

"…" Ludwig did not respond for a moment, confused by everything, yet it was all so clear. There really was only one reason that he knew there was no cure—he had looked deep into it long ago at a time when he himself thought he was lost, friendless.

At last it seemed to him that he had found the answer to his worries, to his questions—and perhaps he had found… a friend. But would England accept him as a companion?

"Arthur," he brought himself to say, "… don't be sorry. Please… don't be sorry. I need to tell you something."

"Oh, w-what the blo-bloody hell is it now, Ge-Germany?" Arthur wiped his tears away with a sleeve.

"We…" Ludwig pondered how to word it, not wanting to shock Arthur. "W-we're not so different, you know…"

"Oh, really? Do you have a disease that could possibly cost you your life with a single fall?" Perhaps Arthur had exaggerated a bit, but he hardly cared. He realized now that one of the reasons he had turned out to be such a tense, cold man was that he had lost himself in anger, bitterness, and regret for so long that he had begun to shut out any other country or companionship. All he had… was himself.

At this, Ludwig sighed, exasperated. By now he was thinking that it would simply be best to just tell Arthur directly, just to say it coldly and ignore hesitation. "Yes, I do."

At this point Arthur sat up straight in bed, a feeling of utter shock and horror taking over him as he stared, unbelieving, at Ludwig. Could… could it _be_? Could there be… someone… _like_… him? But it was impossible, pure fantasy… he could feel a wave of relief washing over him, then horror at his own reaction. Could he actually be _glad_ someone else had sufferred likewise? God… what inhuman beast had he become now?

But that was not something to be pondered at the moment. Germany was facing him, taking a deep breath and looking as if he were about to reveal a secret he had always kept buried deep inside his heart. And indeed it was so.

"Arthur… try to believe me. I have the same disease. The same weakness… I'm just like you."

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><p><strong>I finished another chapter! I feel happy . This is great, thank you guys for reviews. Which reminds me: Reviews are love 3. This makes me want to write more. Expect more update soon! I love y'all!<strong>


	4. A Strange Twist

**All right, everyone. Finally, after more than a year: Chapter 4. I'm going to take this whole story and revamp it, because the whole thing is terrible. I didn't even do any bloody research, and I'm sure Arthur seemed too OOC. But there will be a reason behind that, so... enjoy?**

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><p>There was the sweet breath of sunshine upon his cheek. He breathed in slightly, inhaling the fresh scent of dew and grass, and smiled slightly, waiting to be shaken awake by the boy that he knew and loved, the one who always ran to him with a large grin on his face, shouting: "England, England! Look at the battlefield I set up with your soldiers! They're going to have an epic, heroic battle again the French soldiers!"<p>

And the little boy, not taller than Arthur's knee, would tug at his hand and show him the mini battlefield he had set up on the kitchen table. "And England will always win! Because Arthur's my hero!"

_Ah, that seemed so long ago… But he will wake me up today, and everything will be fine. He will smile at me, laugh, and promise me that he is my little boy, and that I am his brother. He loves me. He'll be with me… always…_

Emerald green eyes opened to stare up at the white, pure ceiling.

And then Arthur realized that America was no longer with him.

Yes. America had left long ago, hadn't he? He had left to go to his own land… a "new world" far across the sea, where he would eventually grow to be the young man that he was now… and then he would rebel.

The sea of blood that mingled with the fresh earth of the new country called "America" had been mixed with his own tears.

"_Goodbye, England. I'm sorry._" He could hear the boy's voice as if the Revolution had been yesterday—no, not even yesterday. As if it was now, here, in his room. "_I'm sorry… But I won't stay with you forever. I won't let you control me anymore… I want my own way. I want my independence._"

No. You bloody bastard. Why would you leave me? Why? Are you like… like...

"_I'm sorry, England._"

No. Damned boy. You're not sorry at all. Not even grateful. I… I… I loved you. And this is… This is how you repay me?

"_Goodbye_."

You're like everyone else… you'll always leave me. No matter how strong I am, how broken… I will always be alone.

The blossoms of sunlight lit upon his crimson-flushed cheeks as he sighed melancholically.

_Ah, yes. What a beautiful day it will be. Wake up, have a mug of tea, and enjoy the warmth of the morning. Nobody there beside me… it'll be peaceful. Peaceful… yes, and lonely as well. B-But that's alright._

_I don't _need_ anyone. Not even America. Especially not America._

Arthur twisted and turned in his bed, moving onto his side to grip his pillow—_Wait._

"… The bloody hell, this isn't my pillow!" Hell, it wasn't. His pillow was nice and fluffy, just the way Tinker Bell had done for him. It had the flag of the damned United Kingdom on it, not black and red and yellow stripes—!

Arthur felt a hand on his shoulder, and a deep, husky voice from behind him. He stiffened as Germany asked: "Arthur, are you o—?"

The Englishman's response was instantaneous. With a sweep of his hand, he had left a bright, red mark across Germany's face as he screamed: "_What the bloody hell am I doing on your bed, potato bastard?!_"

Ludwig wasn't quite sure what was going on, but Arthur's resemblance to Romano was unbearably strong.

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><p><strong>Yeah... so this is where it's going. I'm going to take all these chapters and redo them, since they're absolutely awful. So wish me luck!<strong>

**Oh, yeah, visit my new account at PrussiaXAustria1000 on Fanfiction and deviantART and my parter GermanyXItaly1000. You won't regret it!**


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